Buddy-Buddy

Leadership changes and personal involvement from the governor have
improved relations between Bobby Jindal and the state Legislature, but
it's a truce forged on shaky ground.

It's not exactly rainbows, puppy dogs and lollipops, but Gov. Bobby
Jindal's relationship with lawmakers has never been better. It's an
unlikely reconciliation, considering many legislators showed up this
year wanting to put the screws to Jindal — and a few still do
— for vetoing their pay raise last year, forcing new disclosure
requirements on them, slamming them in speeches and not reining in his
staff.

But that's in the past, at least for now. Practically
every lawmaker interviewed for this story says Jindal has turned around
his game and is communicating with the Legislature far better than he
was last year. That's when three consecutive sessions wreaked havoc on
the traditional learning curve and a record crop of freshman were
pitted against an aggressive young administration that was likewise
cutting its teeth at the state Capitol.

Among the reasons for the new go-along-to-get-along
mentality is the revised role Timmy Teepell, Jindal's chief of staff,
is playing in this year's regular session. While Teepell remains the
administration's brain trust, he's no longer the sole link between
legislators and the governor. Jindal, for his part, is making regular
appearances — a rarity last year — and meeting privately
with key lawmakers. "We all still have our differences in the
Legislature, but I think a lot of us will tell you right now that the
governor's personal touch is going a long way," says House Speaker Jim
Tucker, R-Algiers.

Jindal supporters like Sen. Reggie Dupre, D-Bourg, say
they've seen the governor in small groups on a regular basis in recent
weeks. But, unlike the few meetings held last year, this year's
gatherings are not confined to feel-good chitchat. "We're finally
hearing the governor talk about substantive issues," Dupre says. "He
used to avoid controversial topics when meeting with us, but he's more
willing to get to the nitty-gritty now. My only concern is I don't
think the governor is reaching out enough to traditional opponents.
He's not trying to sway them."

Administration officials contend Jindal has held forth
with many Democrats and members of the Legislative Black Caucus, but
few from those factions are willing to pat the governor on the back
just yet. "It used to be that if you had a bill the administration
didn't like, you never heard word one about it," says Sen. J.P.
Morrell, D-New Orleans. "Now they're sending word. Still, it seems that
if you're against the governor on one thing, they just write you
off."

As for Teepell, legislators say they're seeing and
hearing less of him these days — and when they do see him, it's
almost as if he's a new man. Teepell has ditched his trademark faded
jeans and cowboy boots in favor of suits and even ties. The latest
rumor from legislative quilting circles suggests the Senate toyed with
a resolution requiring the makeover.

Makeover aside, it's Teepell's new attitude that is
drawing the most praise. That's amazing in light of how critical
lawmakers were of Jindal's right-hand man — and his pushy ways
— just a few months ago. "It does seem like Timmy has become a
better listener," says Rep. Joe Harrison, R-Napoleonville. "He's
listening to opposing voices more and is more open-minded. I've
experienced that firsthand this session."

Teepell's best move may have been hiring Scott Angelle
as Jindal's legislative liaison. Angelle, who's doing double duty as
secretary of the Department of Natural Resources (and not being paid as
a Jindal staffer), has been embraced by lawmakers and has earned their
respect. Like many lawmakers, his background is in local government,
and he's a Democrat, allowing him to reach out effectively to
anti-Jindal forces. "Scott Angelle is the administration's link to
political reality right now," says one veteran lobbyist.

Angelle says he has worked closely with Teepell, and
even closer with Jindal, to improve relations. He says his philosophy
has been to approach the job as if he has two bosses: Jindal and the
Legislature. "At the end of the day, it's about counting those votes,"
Angelle says, "but during the process, on our way to getting there,
there's no reason not to search for ways to get along and work
together."

Tommy Williams, a veteran lobbyist who held the
legislative liaison position under Jindal before Angelle, says Angelle
was a smart hire. He predicts Angelle will surprise anyone not yet
convinced of his skills. Williams adds that the passage of time may be
Jindal's best friend, even more so than Teepell or Angelle. "All of the
freshman have got the hang of things now and have three consecutive
sessions under their belts. The administration has the benefit of more
than a year's experience," Williams says. "The transition period is
over."

There's one more explanation for why the relationship
between Jindal and the Legislature smells sweeter than ever. While many
lawmakers entered this session vowing to cut their shackles, the
reality is that Jindal is the governor of a state that confers
king-like powers upon its chief executive. For his part, Jindal is
staying eerily quiet on the Legislature's money bills, which makes
lawmakers nervous. To the extent that he controls the money —
particularly via prioritizing capital projects and wielding his
line-item veto pen — Jindal controls a vast number of lawmakers.
"Lawmakers are learning their place," says one statewide elected
official. "The governor's going to win."

Senate President Joel Chaisson, D-Destrehan, has decided
to test that theory by throwing his weight behind a three-year freeze
on federal itemized deductions. While it would raise money for
Louisiana as the state struggles with a $1.3 billion shortfall, Jindal
opposes the measure.

On issues of transparency, which Jindal has famously
avoided, lawmakers have talked loudly but so far have produced little.
Last month, in what turned out to be more a show of Jindal's power than
of lawmakers' independence, the Senate failed to rewrite legislation
that could have opened more records in the governor's office to public
scrutiny. A dismayed Sen. Robert Adley, R-Benton, took to the Senate
floor and mocked Jindal by using the governor's own words from his
opening-session speech. "I heard it," Adley says of the speech. "'We
must change. We will change' — except when it applies to me."

The session adjourns on June 25, and the massive cuts to
the state budget have yet to hit home. "There's a lot of golf left in
this game," Angelle says of the session. "One bad bill could turn this
entire thing upside down."

WRITER'S NOTE: Next week's column will feature a closer look
at how Angelle carries out his job and more on why lawmakers dig his
style.